T Minus 60
by deangirl1
Summary: Dean has 60 minutes left. My take on how the final episode could play out. Now continued into Season 4. A trip to Hell even with the best intentions is bound to have repurcussions.
1. Chapter 1

T Minus 60

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, I still own nothing. Supernatural belongs to E. Kripke – and I suppose a bit to CW.

**A/N:** The end of the season looming has me going batty. This is my prediction of how the last episode _could_ play out. Most of this scene is pure wish fulfillment for me, but the last scene is exactly how I think it will play out on screen before they fade to black for 3 or 4 months…

T Minus 60

Dean checked his watch. It was almost time. Well, he figured it was almost time. He really didn't know exactly what time to be counting to. Sure, he'd known the date, but he hadn't bothered to check his watch at the time for the exact time he'd made the deal. He was hoping that midnight was a nice round number and would be acceptable. Seeing as how it was now exactly 11 pm and he hadn't heard anything that could remotely be construed to be a hellhound, he was betting he'd guessed right. 

They'd had a nice dinner. Sam hadn't really eaten much, and really, now that he thought about it, neither had Bobby. Dean, on the other hand, had eaten one of the best steaks, maybe ever. The pie had been damn fine too. Sam didn't need to know that when he excused himself after dinner, it had actually been to throw up his entire dinner. Dean decided that it had definitely tasted better going down.

It had seemed like so much time. Well, not ten years worth maybe, but still a whole year. And now it was less than 60 minutes. Dean heard the door next to their room open and close. Bobby must be getting some air. Dean moved to the door.

"I'll just be outside, Sammy, ok?" Dean glanced at his brother hunched over the computer, typing madly. His cell phone, which had rung annoyingly almost all day, now lay silent beside him on the table.

Sam merely grunted in response.

Dean sighed and stepped outside, joining Bobby in the cool May night. 

Bobby smiled when he saw Dean. It was a tense, sympathetic, sad kind of pull at the corners of his mouth, really, not a real smile. Dean had managed to get a few real smiles from Bobby at dinner by talking about the past.

It wasn't the past that Dean needed and wanted to talk about now. Now, he needed to talk about the future. 

"Bobby." It was almost a growl. It wasn't quite the way Dean wanted it to come out, but he seemed to be having a little more trouble than usual controlling his voice. 

"Dean?" Bobby pulled the ever-present flask from his pocket. Twisting off the cap he took a swig and passed it to Dean, who gratefully took it. He didn't want to be drunk. He'd be damned (he smiled at the irony of _that_ statement!) if he was gonna be accused of seeking liquid courage. But he was so cold, so he welcomed the warm burn in his belly. He hoped it would quiet the shivering.

"Bobby. I need to ask you a favour." Dean began and cocked a questioning eyebrow at his friend. At his almost-dad. 

"Son. You know you can ask me anything." Bobby's voice was a bit gruffer even than usual. Dean knew he was trying to keep his emotions in check to be strong for Dean.

"I need you to promise me something."  
"Told you. Anything."

"Ok. Well, really, it's more like two things."  
"Jesus, Dean. Just spit it out ok? I'm not holding you to a specific number!"

Dean searched Bobby's face, holding his eyes with his own.

"I need you look after Sammy for me," Dean said in such a low voice that Bobby almost didn't hear them. He knew how much that alone was killing Dean, leaving behind that with which he had defined his life.

"You don't even have to ask that." Bobby grasped Dean's shoulder and squeezed. "What else?" 

Dean's gaze fell to the ground.

"Help him…help him get rid…help him do the salt and burn." Dean looked up at Bobby though his lashes. "No fucking around. No waiting."

Bobby swallowed convulsively as he squeezed Dean's shoulder again. He couldn't force the words past his lips and his eyes filled with moisture, but he nodded. Dean was satisfied.

"Bobby."

Bobby just waited. 

"Hmpf," Dean snorted mirthlessly. "Guess it was three things…"

Bobby waited.

"If. If I…" God. This was so hard. It was almost impossible to give up a lifetime, however short, of keeping up the walls, of keeping all the fears hidden and let any of them out. Dean cleared his throat.

"If somehow I come back…I need you to promise me you'll do the right thing, Bobby. If I come back, in any form, you have to kill me. Sam won't want to, but you can't trust what'll come back. You know you can't."

"Damn it Dean!" Bobby couldn't hear this. He refused to hear this. "You can't trust a demon! Your daddy was in Hell for almost an entire year. He got out and wasn't anything wrong with him."

"I'm not my Dad."

"Why do you always say that like it's a bad thing? You don't have to worry about the first two, but you'll have to trust me to use my own judgment on the last one."

Dean looked at the older hunter. No one outside their own circle could ever know the size of the heart that beat beneath that vest and trucker hat. Dean smiled gratefully at him.

"Just so long as you don't leave it up to Sam. Don't let him make the decision or… or _do _it. Please, Bobby?"

"Course not. I already told you I'd look after him for you. I'll look after him whether he wants me to or not."

"Thanks." Dean said simply and his own eyes filled with moisture. Bobby pulled him into a rough hug, and Dean let him, soaking in the smell and the comfort.

Dean broke the contact when he heard the sound of flesh hitting something solid.

"Sammy," he breathed and turned back to the room door.

"We'll need to leave in about 20 minutes, Bobby. You ok with that?" Dean paused with his hand on the door knob.

"Yeah." Bobby said out loud, but his heart screamed NO!

Dean entered the room to find his brother pushing up from his place at the table and heaving the computer up, looking as if his greatest wish at that moment was to send the computer smashing to pieces on the opposite wall.

"SAM!" Dean shouted, halting his brother in mid heave. It would have been comical if not for the look of absolute desolation on his brother's face. 

"You so do not want to do that to your pride and joy! You don't hustle pool well enough to be able to replace that anytime soon."

Ashamed of losing control and looking weak and unsupportive in his brother's eyes, Sam put the computer down. Sam just stood at the table, his eyes downcast, his abandoned chair tipped over lying on the floor.

Dean sighed for what felt like the billionth time that day. He felt so bad for the pain his brother was in, it almost physically hurt. It almost made him regret making the deal. Almost. But not quite.

Dean gently took his brother by the arm and lead him over to the beds, encouraging him to sit on one while he sat across from him on the other.

Sam's puppy-eyes were in full force. Funny that one brother worked his whole life to ensure that his face was devoid of emotion as much as he could and the other wore his heart on his sleeve. Dean couldn't help but smile just a little at that. 

Maybe one allowed the other. Maybe he hadn't done Sam any favours by allowing him to always express his emotions. If Dean had tried to harder to make Sam just suck it up, he wouldn't have fought so much with Dad. That would have made life easier…. And Dean wouldn't have had to suffer through so many chick-flick moments – like the one they were about to have. 

But then, Sam wouldn't have been Sammy without all the girly-bits thrown in. And if there was one thing Dean knew for sure, he knew there was nothing about his brother that he would change. Oh, he'd take away his pain if he could, but that would be it.

"Look. I don't want you beating yourself up about this. You did everything you could. If there was any way out of this you would have found it. I know that. I appreciate it." Dean watched as his brother's eyes filled with tears. His own breathing hitched in his chest. 

God. This was just so hard. It didn't matter that it was him dying this time. It hurt just as bad as when Sam had died in his arms. Cuz Sam was dying again right in front of his eyes. And he was never going to see his brother again after tonight. 

Dean ran his hand over his face and scrubbed it through his hair. It was a little longer than he normally kept it. He'd missed his last haircut. He'd just thought what the fuck? 

"Dean," Sam fought to keep the tears at bay. He knew that Dean hated chick-flick moments. He didn't want to make this any harder on his brother than it was already. This wasn't about him, it was about Dean. 

"I'm not giving up." Sam's voice and face were earnest. He raised his hand as soon as he saw Dean begin to object.

"I don't want to hear all the what's dead should stay dead crap! Since when did anyone in our family ever respect _that_ little tenant?" Sam's eyebrows knit into a frown. "I don't care how girly you think I am, damn it. I love you. You're my big brother damn it, and I'm not just gonna take this. I won't! And you won't be here to make me!"

Sam's eyes flashed defiantly. 

"Please Sammy. I don't want to fight. I… I can't." Dean's voice was quiet. He looked up at his little brother through his lashes and smiled sadly.

"I'm so proud of you, ya know? I was proud of you going to Stanford, and I'm proud of the man you've become."

"If you are about to say that I'm a better man than you are, you can stop right there." Sam interrupted and put his hand on his brother's arm. Ordinarily, Dean might have pulled out of the contact, but he just stared at Sam's hand.

"A man's entitled to his opinion."

"I'm proud of you too, Dean. I've always been proud of the man you are. Proud to call you my brother, and I'm just not ready to give that up."

"It's out of our control now, Sammy. I need you to promise me something."

"I've already told you: I'm not giving up!"

Dean sighed. He felt bad that he'd left that little can of worms in Bobby's lap, but he trusted Bobby to be able to do the right thing when he knew that Sam would be blinded by his grief the way he was when Sam died. 

"We'll just have to agree to disagree on that one, ok sport?" Dean's mouth lifted in a half-hearted attempt at a smirk.

"What then, Dean?"

"Promise me that you'll do what's best for you. I know you feel responsible for Lillith and the other demons and you won't give up hunting until she and the rest of them are taken care of, but after that. Go back to school. There are other ways that you can make a difference without living this life. It was never a good fit for you. I want you to have so much more. I want you to have the things you deserve."

"Dean," Sam choked on his brother's name. He had always wanted so much more for Dean. Well maybe not always. He'd been blind when he was younger, not seeing all the dreams that his brother had slowly but surely repressed and hidden and eventually forgotten. 

There was a soft knock on the door. Bobby's voice came through. "Sorry boys, but if we're gonna get there by midnight, we have to leave now. Sorry."

"Coming Bobby," Dean raised his voice to answer. He stood.

Sam mirrored Dean's action and stood as well. There was less than a foot between them but Sam closed the gap between them to wrap his brother in a hug. 

It was both their undoing as they breathed in the familiar scent of the other, willing it to memory for all time. Their breathing hitched in unison. Sam shook silently but a single sob escaped from Dean. They clung to each other for a moment before Dean broke away and moved quickly into the bathroom, closing the door.

He turned on the cold water and leaned over the basin, splashing water on his burning face and eyes. He straightened up and glared at himself in the mirror.

_Get a grip, Winchester. What would your father say? Suck it up. You know what you have to do._

He had to be strong for Sam. 

The walls were firmly back in place when he left the washroom. 

"Ok, Sammy?"

Sam had erected his own walls and met Dean with his own stoic face. He didn't trust himself to answer with more that a curt nod, however.

Dean moved to the door.

"Don't you want your jacket? It's not that warm out," Sam said.

"No. I want you to keep it. And I don't think I'll be cold for long." Dean couldn't help but smirk at that.

"Not funny."  
"C'mon…it's a little funny."

"No. Not at all. There's no reason to think they'll take your body, Dean. Put the damn jacket on," Sam fairly growled.

In the end, Dean put the jacket on. He and Sam rode in the Impala. Bobby followed in his truck. Dean and Bobby had decided that Sam probably wouldn't be in any shape to drive back, so Bobby could tow the Impala. Dean was glad he wouldn't be around to see that.

Dean needed to drive though. He had to feel in control. Feel that he was calling the shots, coming on his own terms. He was man enough to live up to the bargain he'd made. But he also needed the comfort that he only got in the Impala. With his music. With his brother.

Too soon they were at the crossroads. It was 5 to midnight.

The brothers exited the Impal: the only home they'd ever really known. The doors creaked home in unison. Bobby walked up from where he'd pulled the truck in behind them.

And then they heard it. Baying. The hounds were out there. But they shouldn't attack because Dean had lived up to the bargain. He was at the crossroads and ready to pay. Well, maybe not ready, but he was there.

"Dean," Bobby's hand came up on Dean's shoulder. Dean turned to face the man who had become such a stalwart presence in their lives. Who was like a father to him.

Dean turned and pulled him into a hug. 

"Thanks, Bobby. For everything. You've been like a father to me, and I've been so lucky to have you."

"Dean. Damn it. I would have been proud to have been able to call you my son." Bobby didn't try to hide the tears that fell as he returned the hug.

Releasing Bobby, Dean turned once again to his brother. His Sammy. And reaching for him, pulled him into an embrace. 

"Never doubt that I did this willingly, Sam. It was worth it. Live for me, Sam." 

"Dean," Sam sobbed as he held his brother to him tightly.

"I love you, Sam. That will never change. Nothing can ever touch that." Dean felt oddly detached, almost as if he wasn't really there, like he was watching himself and his brother say goodbye.

"I love you too, bro." Sam managed to choke out.

And then Dean was breaking away and walking to the centre of the crossroads. Sam moved as if to go with him and Bobby put a restraining hand on his arm.

Dean stood at the centre of the crossroads and slowly turned a circle, looking down each of the four roads, wondering who or what was coming and where it would come from. 

Suddenly, he stopped and cocked his head as if he could hear something that Bobby and Sam couldn't. He was in profile to his brother and friend.

Suddenly, Dean flung his head back and arched his back. A grunt escaped from his grimacing face as a wave of intense pain shot through his body. And then he was collapsing limply to the ground.

"DEAN!" Sam screamed as he watched the light go out of his brother and his chest still.

A/N: So. As of now, this is how I see the season ending. Most of the dialogue is wish fulfillment, but the final scene is pretty much exactly like I think it will end – Dean's lifeless body falling at the centre of the crossroads. I was scarily accurate in my prediction for last year's final scene – written long before it aired – boys leaning against the Impala and all…I'll be surprised if I don't write another prediction between now and the last episode though….

I do have a second part to this in mind that is pure wish fulfillment on my part – because I honestly have _no_ idea how Kripke is going to save/rescue our boy…. So if anyone wants the second part, let me know….


	2. Always Read the Fine Print

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em. That'd be Kripke the evil genius.

**A/N: **I have no expectation that this chapter will ever see the small screen. I stand behind my prediction for the last scene in chapter one, though…I HAD to find a way to help Dean beat that deal…. I hope this isn't too sappy.

A big thank you to my awesome Contracts professor – Gillian D. for the advice on breach and damages!

* * *

"DEAN!" Sam screamed as he watched his brother crumple to the ground at the centre of the crossroads.

"Dean," was a choked sob as Sam tried to go to his brother.

Bobby still had a hand on his arm, but wasn't preventing him from going to his brother; Sam's own body betrayed him as his shaking legs wouldn't support him.

For a moment, the entire world went white and then black and then Bobby was right there holding him up.

When his vision cleared, Sam became aware of another figure at the crossroads, standing beside his brother.

"What the fuck?" Sam couldn't believe his eyes. It was a red-haired woman in a black cocktail dress.

"You bitch," he spit out, staggering to his feet and moving towards his brother's body. He'd protect it, even in death. Perhaps better in death, he thought morosely.

"I fucking well killed you. Stay the fuck away from my brother!"

"Naïve for a college kid, aren't you Sammy?" the woman's eyes flashed red and she smirked at Sam. "Do you think one demon could be responsible for all the crossroads out there and their subsequent contracts? You killed my 'sister' – not me. And before you ask. No. I don't hold the contract; I'm just acting as an agent."

"You leave my brother alone."

"You can have his corporeal form. I have no interest in it. I only came to give his soul that little downward push."

"It won't take, you know." Bobby was suddenly beside Sam. Sam looked at Bobby curiously. He knew that Bobby had just spoken because he had turned at the first words and watched him say them, but it was somehow not Bobby's voice coming from Bobby.

"Bobby?" Sam took a step back.

"What the hell, do you think you're doing here?" the crossroads demon sounded somewhere between annoyed and afraid. She took a stop back as well.

"Hell, as you very well know, has nothing to do with me," Not-Bobby chuckled and then grew serious as he turned to Sam. "No. I'm not Bobby, exactly, at this precise moment, Sam."

It was then that Sam noticed two things. Bobby's eyes, while still his normal colour, were almost glowing. And Dean's amulet was also glowing.

"Explain yourself, old man," the crossroads demon demanded stomping her foot. "You can't interfere. The deal was made fair and square. Conditions were agreed to. There is no question about the _mens rea_ of this contract."

"I'm just here, same as you, acting as an agent. You were duped. Plain and simple. A body can't agree to sell that which they don't own." Not-Bobby was smirking again.

"What?" the crossroads demon was clearly incredulous.

"He'd given his soul up a long time ago."

"To whom? No one in hell held the contract. There is no record of any other contract." The crossroads demon was beginning to sound desperate to Sam.

Sam was stunned. He fell to his knees beside his brother and straightened out his muscular frame. Dean's body was growing cold. Sam couldn't process what was going on around him. He lay his hand on his brother's chest, willing there to be some movement. There was no rise and fall. There was no heartbeat. A strangled cry escaped from Sam's lips and he fell across his brother's body. The amulet still glowed and it was warm to the touch when Sam's hand brushed against it.

Not-Bobby watched Sam. When Sam finally stilled against his brother's body, Not-Bobby looked again at the crossroads demon.

"He holds his brother's soul. He has for a very, very long time," Not-Bobby's eyes fell again to the two brothers.

"That isn't possible." The crossroads demon's voice was strong with certainty.

"It is. But it isn't the only thing that voids your deal. Really you people should read the guiding principles before you go drawing up such lame contracts," Not-Bobby actually tsked in derision.

"What else do you think you can use to challenge this deal? I notice that for all your brave words, the hunter is still a corpse at my feet."

Sam had pushed himself back up to a sitting position beside his brother, the one hand never straying from his brother's chest. His attention went back and forth between the supernatural negotiators in front of him. He had no idea who Not-Bobby was, but it was clear he was playing for the home team.

"Well, misrepresentation breaches the contract, but I never said that there would be no damages for him to pay."

"Damages?" The red-haired demon looked puzzled.

"Yes. Damages. Liquidation damages – you won't be getting any aggravated or punitive damages."

"Go back a moment. Explain your second challenge to the deal."

"Simple. You can't take a soul that is given willingly and freely to save the soul of another. Not when the soul is pure and unselfish in intent."

"He gave it up." The crossroads demon was getting desperate. Her voice rising to a screech.

"Exactly. He gave it up – but not to your _'sister'_. He came here willingly to fulfill the bargain. A pure and unselfish soul."

"Hardly pure. We are talking about the same Dean Winchester." The crossroads demon smirked and chuckled low in her throat.

"Well, that is where the damages come in."

The demon simply cocked an eyebrow at Not-Bobby.

"You get to keep him for seven days. He does one day of penance for each of the deadly sins."

"You've got to be kidding. Do you have any idea what my boss will say if I go back and say that?"

"I suspect that your stay in hell will be considerably longer than Dean's. I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not. It behoves us to keep the likes of you off the street." Not-Bobby had the smirk back. Crossroads looked about ready to cry.

Suddenly, she threw back her head and a cloud of inky black smoke burst out of her and she collapsed to the ground.

"Who are you?" Sam managed to choke out to Not-Bobby.

"That's not important. What is important is that you listen to me carefully right now. You need to keep your brother's body safe for the next seven days. Do not remove the amulet. At midnight on the seventh day bring him back here, and he will be returned to you. His debt paid."

"What? How?" Sam had a thousand questions, but his attention was suddenly caught by the young red-haired woman.

"Who are you? How did I get here?" She looked with frightened eyes from Sam to Not-Bobby.

Not-Bobby, however, looked completely flummoxed himself. Suddenly, his eyes were no longer bright. They were Bobby's eyes again.

"What the Hell, Sam?" Bobby breathed.

"I'm not entirely sure, but I think it's going to be ok." Sam's voice was raw and barely above a whisper. He didn't dare to hope that he understood what had just happened. That he would see his brother again.

"It's ok, miss," Sam soothed in his best sympathetic voice, which was definitely mitigated by his dishevelled and wild appearance. "We'll take you back to the nearest town."

The woman was too distraught to really comprehend what was going on around her.

"We need to take Dean back to the motel, Bobby. Do you remember what just happened?"

"I think I was just possessed despite the fact that I use all of my strongest charms on myself…" Bobby's voice was a little shaky.

"You weren't possessed by a demon, Bobby. I never saw it come or leave. I don't think your charms work because your charms are only to ward off evil," Sam mused.

"What are you saying?"

"I don't even know," Sam breathed.

"Ok," Bobby scrubbed a hand over his face, readjusting his ball cap. "I think I remember what happened but it's like I was dreaming under water."

Bobby shook himself. He had to get his shit together. This wasn't going to be the nightmare he'd thought the night was going to be, but it was still far from normal. And considering what normal was for a hunter, that was really saying something.

Sam stood up, gathering Dean's limp and still very dead body gently in his arms. Even though Sam now dared to hope that his brother would be restored to him in seven days, a few tears still trickled down his cheeks as he carried the body back to the Impala.

Bobby, meanwhile, helped the distraught woman to her feet and guided her towards his truck. She was trembling and pretty unfocused. Bobby helped her into the truck and then jogged over to open the back door of the Impala for Sam.

While Sam arranged Dean in the backseat, Bobby walked back over to his truck.

"Can you tell me your name, miss?" Bobby probed gently. If possible, he'd like to be able to call someone to take her off their hands rather than dumping her with the cops – which would probably end up with them being sought for questioning – or at the hospital – which would probably end with her being institutionalized and them being sought for questioning…

"Uh… it's Erin. Um Erin Kovaks." She looked at Bobby.

"Great. Erin. Where do you live, Erin? Is there someone we can call for you?"

After a few more gentle questions, Bobby was able to get the name and phone number of her sister. Bobby called her and she said she would meet them at the motel to pick up her sister.

"I think I've got this sorted, Sam. Are you ok to drive? Maybe we should hook up the Impala and tow her back anyway…"

"No. I'm ok Bobby. I can drive, and you'll be behind me the whole way, right?" Sam half smiled at his friend. Hope was growing in his chest, warming him.

It wasn't long before they were back at the motel. True to her word, Erin's sister was waiting for them. They transferred Erin from the truck to her sister's car. After a quick discussion, the sister agreed with Bobby that keeping Erin's blackout a secret was probably best for everyone involved. She would keep an eye on her to make sure she was physically ok, but otherwise, they would try to just ignore the episode. Erin had apparently been going through a bit of a bad patch.

_That would explain her being open to the possession_, Bobby thought.

Her sister assured Bobby that Erin had never done anything even remotely like this before though. It was only a total of about ten minutes before they were leaving the parking lot.

Sam had waited in the Impala with Dean's body. Now that the parking lot was abandoned, he unfolded himself from the driver's seat and moved to open the back door. He positioned Dean's body to lift him from the car. The body was still cold and lifeless. The amulet still warm and glowing against its chest. Curiously, Sam would have expected some stiffness to have started to set in, but there was none.

Cradling his brother in his arms, Sam moved to shut the door, but Bobby beat him to it.

"Let's get him inside," he laid a hand gently on Sam's back, guiding him towards the hotel door.

Bobby moved swiftly around Sam to get the door and let him in. Sam gently laid his brother on the bed closest to the door and carefully arranged his limbs.

Bobby moved to the other side of the bed. Emotions flitted quickly across his face as he stared down at Dean.

"What now?" Sam asked, his voice breaking slightly now that there was nothing left to _do_. Nothing left to focus on.

"I guess we wait, son." Bobby's deep voice rumbled.

Sam sighed in response. Wait. Never his best thing. And for seven unrelenting days. And seven unrelenting nights. Days and nights that his brother was spending in Hell.

Sam could only wonder what effect that would have on his brother. Would he be 100 Dean when he came back? Would he even remember what had happened to him? Sam still had no memory of what had happened to him after he died, after all.

There really was nothing else to do. They settled in to wait. For most of the time, they tried to carry on as if Dean were simply sleeping. They watched tv, ordered in take out, worked on the laptop, read magazines, talked quietly, and watched Dean. The body remained completely still and unnaturally warm. It didn't breath, but it didn't decay either.

Sam was sure it was the longest week of his life, but finally it was over. It was 11:30 on the seventh night and time to head back to the crossroads. Neither Sam nor Bobby had any idea what to expect.

Sam carried Dean's body to the Impala after Bobby had checked that the parking lot was deserted. They drove in silence to the crossroads. Sam carried Dean back to the centre of the crossroads and laid him gently on the gravel, kneeling and arranging Dean's chest against his own.

His brother's body was still warm, but all Sam craved was to _feel _his brother draw in that first breath.

Bobby stood nearby, hoping he was ready for anything.

Sam looked up to ask Bobby the time and realized he was no longer looking at Bobby. Not-Bobby was back.

He smiled down at Sam with those unnaturally glowing eyes.

"Who are you?" Sam breathed.

"Are you sure you don't know? Does it really matter, Sam?"

"I don't know. I mean, I'm not sure," Sam stuttered.

"It is almost time. Your brother will be unwell at first. Treat his symptoms as they appear – they won't be particularly supernatural, but Hell is not an easy destination. Be gentle with his soul as he is with yours. Give him time and space and know that he is as strong as you have ever believed him to be."

Sam opened his mouth to ask one of the thousand questions running around his brain, but then he was staring at Bobby's eyes again.

"Aw, damn it!" Bobby growled. "It happened again, didn't it?"

Sam couldn't help the smile that tugged up the corners of his mouth as he nodded.

And then Sam heard the sweetest sound he had ever heard in his life and felt the sweetest sensation.

Dean heaved in a breath, like he was coming up out of deep water. His eyes flew open, and his body was suddenly wracked with shakes so bad Sam could hardly hold him.

And then he screamed. And Sam's heart broke all over again.

"It's ok Dean. I gotcha. I gotcha," Sam soothed over and over.

Bobby stepped in front of Dean and crouched down touching Dean's legs.

"It's ok, son. You're safe now. They can't hurt you here anymore.

Finally, Dean relaxed slightly in Sam's arms. His eyes were streaming and bloodshot. He was still shaking uncontrollably.

"S..S..S..Saa..mm..mmy?" Dean finally managed to stutter.

"It's ok, Dean," Sam soothed continuing to repeat Dean's name to help keep him grounded. Sam rubbed circles on Dean's back. Dean's hands clung to the arm that Sam had wrapped around his chest. It wasn't the strong grasp that Sam was used to, but it was Dean.

"Wh…wh…wh..at h..h…h…hap..p..ppened," Dean managed to get out.

"You died. Went to Hell for seven days. We beat the contract, and now, you have hibernation sickness, Han ole buddy," Sam explained into Dean's short cropped hair.

"It wasn't a dream," Dean's voice was barely a whisper but he shuddered violently in his brother's arms.

"I'm ff..ff..ff..ffr…reee…akin' frrrreezing here, Sammy. Can we g..g..get out of here," Dean chattered.

"I thought you'd never ask…" Sam stood and grabbed his brother.

Dean tried. He really did. But his legs were completely useless. Bobby and Sam got him to the Impala.

"Awww Baby! Did ya miss me? I know ya did." Dean crooned to his car as Sam and Bobby gently eased him into the backseat.

Even with the heater cranked up full bore and two blankets on him, Dean was still shivering when they reached the motel. He was able to help Bobby and Sam a little more with moving him back into the motel.

A shower might have helped to warm him up, but Dean still didn't have the strength to stand on his own, so Sam ran him a bath. By then, Dean managed to get himself in and out of the tub. Jeans off, sweats on, just sliding from the side of the tub to the toilet.

Bobby went to get food, and by the time he got back, Dean was sitting up, tucked into the bed on which Bobby and Sam and stood vigil over his lifeless corpse for a week.

None of them would ever be the same.

Dean was still wracked by occasional tremors but managed to eat the cheeseburger and fries and drink three bottles of water before his eyes started to droop.

Sam had absently picked at his food, unable to keep his focus anywhere but his brother's face.

When they finished eating, Bobby excused himself to his own room, which he hadn't used all week. He wanted to give the brothers some space.

"I'm gonna turn in, but remember that I'm right next door if you need anything." Bobby had moved from the small table over to stand beside Dean. His hand reached out and squeezed Dean's leg gently, needing to reassure himself that the boy was really back.

Dean smiled up at Bobby.

"Thanks Bobby. I guess it was a good thing that we left it up to you to decide what happened after I …. You know." Dean made a sweeping gesture with one hand and smiled up at his friend.

"Huh. I'm just glad it worked out," Dean couldn't be sure, but he thought Bobby's eyes looking a little more watery than normal. He reached out and gave a quick squeeze to his friend's wrist.

Bobby cleared his throat, "Night boys." He said and left for his own room.

Sam turned on the tv.

Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer.

"Dean? Are you ok? I mean, what happened? What do you remember?" Sam sank onto the bed beside his brother, hips and knees just grazing each other.

"I'm not sure, Sammy. I don't want to remember, though. Please don't ask that of me." Dean's voice was barely a whisper. He'd dropped his eyes to the ugly comforter but looked up at Sam through his lashes as he pled with his brother to let it go just this once.

"God. You do remember, don't you." Sam's face reflected the anguish in his voice.

"Bits of it. Bits of me." Dean conceded, dropping his eyes again.

"I'm so sorry," Sam was torn between guilt and anguish and anger that his brother always seemed to be suffering for him.

"Don't." Dean's voice was suddenly stronger and he griped Sam's wrist tightly. "Don't you do that. It's over. I'm alive. It was worth it. Leave it." Dean's voice started out strongly but weakened as he spoke, and the final words were barely a whisper.

"It's your call," Sam's voice sought to sooth. He was pretty sure that eventually Dean would have to talk about it. He would need time to process everything internally, and then, he'd be ready to discuss it with Sam. Sam could be patient. There wasn't an expiration date looming anymore after all.

"I'm tired," Dean admitted, scooting down in the bed.

"Ok. It's late. Bobby wants us to go back to his place with him. I think it's a good idea. Give us a chance to regroup and figure out where we go from here." Sam's voice was low and soothing. He stood and crawled into his own bed, ready, willing, and able to let sleep claim him. It was the first real sleep he'd had in a week.

Sam had only been asleep for a few hours when the nightmares started, and Dean's scream brought him back to consciousness.

No. They would never be the same. Because Hell was Hell, regardless of your good intentions for going there.

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**A/N2:** So? Love it, hate it? Should I run and hide? I sadly have no life and live only for reviews… Please leave one?


	3. What Dreams May Come

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All credit for Supernatural freely and gratefully acknowledged to E. Kripke.

**A/N:** So this was originally just my little take on the finale. A simple two-shot. But as soon as I posted the second chapter, everyone seemed to assume there would be more. So. Here it is. It's not quite a tag to NRFTW because it will incorporate my solution to Dean going to hell, but the aftermath might track a little the way Kripke has it planned…

My apologies to anyone who reviewed and I didn't respond to. I very much appreciate the kind words, and they really do inspire me to keep writing. I promise to do better and answer any I may get for this.

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Dean was screaming.

Dean didn't have nightmares and if he did, the most they ever wrenched out of him was a grunt. So Sam was disoriented, his mind heavy and sluggish with sleep. Was he dreaming? Dreaming of Dean in Hell? No. Dean wasn't in Hell. Dean was here.

Dean was screaming!

Sam leapt out of bed, turned on the lamp, and quickly crossed to his brother's bed in one continuous and fluid motion. Dean's body was rigid, his eyes firmly shut and he was still screaming.

"Dean!" Sam grabbed his brother's shoulders, shaking him firmly, trying to get him to wake up.

"Dean! Wake up! You're dreaming! It's ok; you're safe now," Sam didn't know what to do, so he did what he did best, he kept talking. Well he was shouting, trying to be heard over Dean's screams. Sam was sure that Dean was waking the entire motel.

Suddenly, Dean's eyes flew open. He gave Sam one look of abject and unknowing terror before scooting back as far and as fast on the bed as he possibly could. His breath was coming in harsh pants.

Dean's backward flight came to an abrupt and, Sam had to assume, painful end when he slammed into the headboard of the bed. Dean's tortured gaze left Sam's face to dart about the room, seeking imagined horrors.

"Dean! Dean. Dean? You're okay. I'm right here." Sam tried to sooth, using his best reassuring, calm voice.

Dean's haunted gaze came back to Sam and then his next words were a like a punch to his gut.

"Who? Who are you? Where am I?" Dean's voice was weak and breathless, ragged from the screaming and still coming between harsh pants.

"Dean? It's me. Your brother. Sam. Sammy," Sam kept his voice quiet and even, keeping his own raging emotions out of it. Sam let his love for his brother come through in his voice. He kept the shock from his face of seeing his indestructible brother cringing and with terror shining in his eyes. Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Dean show any fear of or for anything. Well, there was that time on the plane...

"Dean?" Sam tried again, gently placing a hand on his brother's leg. Dean flinched but allowed the touch. Sam could feel that Dean was trembling violently.

"Ss...ss..Sam...mmmy?" Dean managed to stutter, some recognition creeping into the gaze still firmly planted on Sam.

"Yeah Dean. That's right. It's me. Sammy."

"What...took...so...long?" Dean's voice was still barely a whisper.

"I'm sorry. It took me a couple of minutes to realize you were having a bad dream. I guess I was more tired than I thought," Sam explained.

"Not tonight." Dean's eyes were still darting around the room, though they were pausing for longer on Sam.

"What? I don't understand," Dean's response seemed to be a complete non sequitur. His disorientation was starting to worry Sam. Dean was shivering again, too.

"Are you cold, Dean?" Sam kept repeating his brother's name in an attempt to help ground him in the present.

"Yeah. Ssso cccold," Dean's teeth stated to chatter as if the mere mention of being cold had made him colder. Sam grabbed the comforter off of his own bed and wrapped it around Dean's shoulders.

_At least he didn't try to back away or flinch that time_, Sam thought.

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face and into his hair. It was a gesture that was so Dean-like that it made Sam's heart ache. He watched as Dean gave himself a mental kick in the ass.

"Sorry Sam. You should go back to bed. I know you were tired," Dean's voice was still quiet but sounded more _Dean_-like.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?" Sam asked. "Do you want me to get you something hot to drink?"

"No thanks. I'm fine. I might sit up for a bit. I'm not really tired anymore."

"Do you want me to sit up with you? Do you want to talk about it Dean?" Sam desperately wanted his brother to talk to him. The dark circles that had formed under Dean's eyes clearly indicated that he was still exhausted. Sam surmised that Dean just wanted to make sure he didn't end up back in the nightmare.

"No, Sam. Please. You said you wouldn't press," Dean's voice was almost a whine and Sam was so stunned, he just stared for a moment. "Please just go back to sleep."

"Ok. If that's what you want. Do you want the tv on?" Sam couldn't help but be hurt by Dean's pushing him away.

"Thanks. Are you sure it won't bother you?"

"It's ok, Dean." Sam stood and picking up the remote turned the tv on and handed the remote to his brother. Dean managed a small smile. He immediately turned the sound down so it was almost muted and began channel surfing.

Sam climbed back into his bed, convinced he'd never get back to sleep.

"Night Sam. Thanks."

"Night." Sam hoped that Dean would nod off and get some more sleep.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNS

Dean was screaming.

This time Sam was ready for it and jumped out of bed more quickly. He didn't have to turn on the light this time. He'd left it on when he'd gone back to bed. The tv was also still on and the light of early morning was seeping in around the curtains.

Sam approached his brother. This time the screaming had given way to pleading.

"No. Please. Don't. No. Not again. Please..." Sam wished for the screaming back.

"Dean! Dean?" Sam grasped his brother by the shoulders again in an attempt to wake him.

Suddenly, Dean thrust out with both his hands, catching Sam squarely in the chest and sending him flying off the bed. This time when Dean scrambled backward, wild-eyed, he kept going off the bed, over Sam's bed and came to rest in the corner of the room. Once again, he seemed completely disoriented.

As Sam picked himself up, he made sure to do so as slowly as possible.

"Hey. Dean? You ok, buddy? Had another dream?" Sam kept his voice quiet and reassuring, waiting and hoping to see recognition in his brother's eyes. He kept his body low to the floor to appear less intimidating.

Dean was pressing himself into the corner in what appeared to be an attempt to simply push right into it and disappear. Sam noticed a fine sheen of sweat on his brother's face. Dean was shaking and Sam knew that it wasn't all due to Dean's inability to get warm.

"Dean?" Sam tried to reach his brother again. He was met with another wild stare and Dean's hitched breathing. Sam slowly reached out to touch Dean's leg.

"NO!" Dean recoiled as if Sam had made to hit him. Dean closed his eyes as if anticipating a blow.

"Dean, it's ok. Nobody's going to hurt you. I'm not going to hurt you," Sam could barely keep the tremble out of his own voice. Sam waited for Dean to open his eyes.

Finally, Dean opened his eyes. It looked to Sam like he was waking up. He blinked hugely, looking around disoriented but at least not panic stricken.

"Sam?"

"Hey. You with me?"

"Why are we on the floor?" Sam actually chuckled at the look on Dean's face that was somewhere between pissed off and confused.

"Mostly your choice, Dude. Want a hand up?" Sam stood and offered a hand to his brother. Dean hesitated just a second before taking Sam's hand. He was glad that he had though as the sudden change in altitude made the room spin and tilt around him. Sam brought his other hand up to Dean's shoulder to steady him. He was immediately aware of the heat radiating off his brother.

"You feel ok? You seem really warm," Sam probed gently.

"Funny, cuz I feel like I'm freezing." Dean's teeth were almost chattering again.

"I think you've got a fever," Sam helped his brother back to his bed. Dean gratefully sat back against the headboard, pulling the blankets back up on himself.

"Well, that's my luck all over, isn't it? Beat death. Beat Hell, and end up with a cold!" Dean snorted.

"Sounds about right," Sam agreed, thinking that his brother would be lucky if the only thing he caught in hell was a cold and knowing that Dean could never be that lucky.

"Well, seeing as we're both up and it's at least technically morning, how about I see about rounding us up some coffee?" Sam suggested.

"Sure. Sounds good," Dean agreed.

"Do you want me to run you a bath before I go so you can warm up a bit?"

"No. Thanks. 'M good." Dean had picked up the remote and was aimlessly surfing again.

When Sam came back, he might as well have blinked as been gone for half an hour as Dean was still staring at the television as the channels flicked by. He barely acknowledged Sam's return.

"Want your coffee there, or do you want to sit at the table?" Sam asked.

"Here, I guess," Dean finally looked at Sam.

Sam was a little concerned. Dean's face was pale except for two red spots on his cheeks. His freckles stood out starkly across the bridge of his nose. All sure signs that he wasn't well. Sam handed Dean a steaming cup of coffee and set a bag with donuts, sticky buns, and a Danish on the night table.

"Thanks," Dean said, gratefully taking the coffee and gently cradling it next to himself, breathing in the aroma and enjoying its warmth. He ignored the bag.

"Welcome. Thought you might be a bit hungry. We can get a proper breakfast once Bobby makes an appearance."

"Sure." Dean's voice was flat. He turned his attention back to the tv.

Sam tried not to sigh as he went back over to the table. He sat down and surfed the internet as he ate his donuts and drank his coffee. He wasn't really looking for a hunt. It was too soon for Dean, but the demons they'd let out were still out there. Still their responsibility.

Sam had just finished his shower and come out of the bathroom when Bobby knocked and entered the room.

Sam noticed Dean's sharp intake of breath and his snapping to attention.

"Hey Bobby," Sam greeted.

"You boys sleep ok?" Bobby smiled but his keen gaze lingered on Dean.

"Yeah. Not too bad," Sam replied. Dean remained quiet.

"You boys up for heading for my place today, or do you want to stay here another day or so? Once we get to my place, it'll give you a chance to regroup and we can figure out where to go from here," Bobby's voice was gruff and his tone was his most no nonsense one. Sam couldn't help but smile.

"Thanks, Bobby. I think I'd prefer to head out as soon as possible. How about you Dean?" Sam tried to draw Dean in.

"Yeah. Um. Today'd be great. Thanks." Dean finally offered. "Guess I should grab a shower and get dressed." He pulled the blankets off of himself and swung his feet to the floor.

"Are you sure you're up for that?" Sam hovered anxiously.

"Only one way to find out Sammy," Dean said as he stood up. Dean briefly closed his eyes as the room tilted and he waited for the sensation to pass. He was pleased when things settled down and he was still on his feet. He gave Sam a tight smile, grabbed some clean clothes and his kit from his duffle and disappeared into the bathroom.

"Call if you need help, Dean. Don't lock the door."

_Not gonna happen,Sammy. I'm not having you coming in to check on me, _Dean thought.

Dean turned the water on as hot as he thought he could stand it and gave it a minute to warm up the room. He glanced in the mirror and wished he hadn't.

He was pale, his eyes sunken in dark sockets. His beard was a little more than the stubble he usually wore. It was his face. He was sure of it, and yet, he didn't recognize himself. He quickly turned from the mirror, unable to face the haunted image staring back at him.

"How bad was it?" Bobby asked.

"What," Sam raised an eyebrow at the older hunter.

"Last night. Neither of you looks like you slept." Bobby hadn't failed to notice the bags and dark circles under Sam's eyes.

"Couple nightmares. Pretty bad." Sam felt a little like he was breaking a confidence, but Dean hadn't said not to tell Bobby. Bobby was family after all.

"Hmm. That all?"

"He just seemed kind of... out of it when he first woke up. And he's got a fever."

"Well, we knew there'd be after effects. We'll just have to keep a close eye on him," Bobby said.

"Without _looking_ like we're keeping an eye on him," Sam rolled his eyes. He knew how stubborn his big brother was. How much he always resisted anyone looking out for him.

"You know, Bobby, it's kinda weird."

"What's that?"

"Dean hasn't asked anything about how we got him out." Sam turned his worried gaze to Bobby. Bobby just raised his eyebrows and didn't say anything.

Dean looked a little better after his shower. Sam noticed a couple of extra layers of clothing but his general colour was better and he seemed a lot steadier and less shakey.

They checked out of the motel and decided to stop at a truck stop on the edge of town for breakfast.

"Ok if I drive, Dean?" Sam asked. He didn't think that Dean was up to driving, but he was prepared to let him drive at least as far as the truck stop because he figured he'd be dying to get back behind the Impala's wheel.

"Fine." Sam was stunned at Dean's complete indifference.

Bobby followed them in his truck to the truck stop.

Dean was quiet, picking at his food more than eating it. He showed no interest in their well endowed and bubbly twenty-something waitress. Sam and Bobby exchanged looks.

"You ok, Dean?" Sam asked quietly.

"Other than you staring at me and asking that every ten minutes? Yeah. I'm fine." Dean growled back, surprising Sam.

"I'm concerned, ok? You didn't eat much and you're squinting like you have a headache. You look like you still have a fever too." Sam was trying to be understanding. Dean sighed.

"Sorry. I guess I do have a bit of a headache." Dean dropped his eyes to the table.

Sam reached in his pocket, pulled out a bottle, shook out a couple of ibuprofen and pushed them across the table to his brother.

"Thanks," Dean took the pills and smiled at his brother.

When they went back out to the car, Dean just climbed into the passenger seat.

"Want a blanket?" Sam asked as he climbed behind the wheel.

"I'm not five, Sammy," Dean ground out, reaching in the glove compartment for his glasses. Sam was a little taken aback again by the annoyance radiating off of his brother.

"Ok, then," Sam decided to just let it go – to give his brother the space he'd asked for. At least, he'd do it for now – but not forever.

Dean just grunted and scrunching down in his seat, he leaned his head back on the seat, effectively shutting his brother out. Sam wasn't particularly surprised by his brother's reluctance to want to care and share. In fact, if Dean had suddenly become all emo on him, he'd be even more concerned. What did have him concerned was the fact that Dean had made no move to put any music on.

"Do you want a tape in, Dean?"

"Whatever," came Dean's indifferent reply and Sam was officially worried. Dean remained silent, but his breathing didn't even out into sleep for quite some time.

They'd been on the road for about three hours when Dean started muttering. Sam glanced at his brother and noticed that sweat had beaded on his forehead. His face was still pale. Sam knew better than to touch his brother when he was sleeping, so he opted not to check his forehead for fever. When Dean's muttering changed to moaning and seemed likely to be about to escalate to screaming again, Sam threw caution to the winds and grabbed his brother's shoulder.

"Dean! Wake up, man. Dean! You're dreaming!" Sam shook his brother with increasing force, getting no reaction.

Suddenly, Dean sat bolt upright. He leapt so violently that he almost brained himself on the windshield. His breath was coming in harsh pants; his eyes darted around the car, and then he flung himself into the passenger door so hard Sam was afraid he was going to eject himself. The car swerved violently, but Sam maintained control.

"Easy Dean! It was just a dream. You're in the Impala. You're safe!" Sam eased the Impala to the side of the road. He was sure Bobby would have noticed the car lurching all over the road. He checked the rear view mirror and sure enough Bobby was pulling up behind.

Dean was slumped against the passenger door. He removed the sunglasses and scrubbed his hand over his face and up into his hair. He licked his lips. His breathing was still ragged, but Sam could hear him try to rein it back in to normal. Sam rolled down his window as Bobby came up beside the car.

"Everything ok?" Bobby asked.

"Um, yeah," Sam hesitated.

"Sorry," Dean offered. "I startled Sam. You know what a girl he can be." Dean managed a half hearted smirk.

Sam was a little taken aback by Dean's half truth. He looked up at Bobby and smiled sheepishly. He knew immediately by the look on Bobby's face that he wasn't buying it. Bobby was nobody's dummy, however, and knew better than to press the issue, he just narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

"We'll be to my place in a couple of hours, so try not to give yourself a heart attack before then. Pull off if you need to take a break or want to get some grub," Bobby said, patted the window and slowly made his way back to his truck.

"Do you want to take a break, Dean? Stop, get some food?"

"No. You?"

"I'm good," Sam pulled back onto the highway. He couldn't stop himself from glancing sideways at his brother who sighed.

"I'm _fine_, Sam. It was just dream, ok?"

"If it was just a dream, why didn't you tell Bobby that?"

"Because one of you mother-henning me to death is enough? And I don't like to bring bad dreams up to Bobby, ok?"

"Oh. Ok." Sam had to admit that made sense after Bobby's experience with the African dreamroot. In fact, it was downright sensitive on Dean's part. Sam narrowed his eyes. He was pretty sure he was being played, but he'd let that go for now too.

"How's the head? Do you think you still have a fever?" Sam couldn't help himself. He couldn't just sit back and do nothing, not when his brother wouldn't look after himself.

"I'm fine, Sam. Drop it." Dean's voice was low and Sam knew he'd pushed too far. Dean turned his shoulders away from Sam and stared determinedly out the passenger window, shutting his brother out.

Dean didn't know what to do with the restless feelings stirring within himself. He was bone tired but didn't want to sleep. He drew comfort from just being in the Impala and drawing in its familiar smell and feeling its familiar rumble. He drew comfort from Sam too, but for some reason, Sam was also irritating him to the point where he thought he might scream. But then, he'd had enough of screaming for the time being too.

So Dean settled into the comforting leather and tried to do anything but think. He was cold and regretted not letting his brother get him a blanket. He did his best not to Sam see his tremors and shivers.

They travelled the rest of the way to Bobby's in silence. Sam put a tape in. Dean made no comment, not that Sam had expected he would, after all he'd put in Metallica.

They all climbed stiffly out of their vehicles after pulling into the scrap yard. Dean and Sam grabbed their duffles and followed Bobby into the house.

"I'll get us something to eat. TV dinners ok?" Bobby said over his shoulder as he made his way into the kitchen.

"That's great. Thanks Bobby," Sam smiled and moved to put his things in the room he always shared with Dean at Bobby's.

"I'm just gonna grab a quick shower before dinner," Sam said as he rummaged for some clean clothes. "How's your head? The ibuprofen is still in my jacket if you need some more.

"I'm good. I think I'll just get some fresh air," Dean said and left the room.

Sam stared after his brother and shrugged. He'd promised to give Dean time. It wasn't the first time Dean had asked it of him. This time, Sam vowed he would respect his brother's wishes.

Dean made his way quietly through the familiar house that was almost like a home to him. He didn't want to have to talk to Bobby any more than he'd wanted to talk to Sam. He hadn't lied to Sam. He didn't really remember what had happened to him. It came in sharp flashes of images that hurt both mentally and physically. The dreams hurt worse, and they weren't quick.

He was shaking again but the cooler air outside was irresistible. The house was unbearably claustrophobic.

When Sam came down from the shower, Bobby stuck his head out of the kitchen.

"Want to grab your brother? I think these things are about as edible as they're going to get."

"Sure, Bobby. Um…any idea where he is?"

"Front porch," Bobby said as he jutted his chin in that direction.

Sam stepped out and found Dean sitting on the steps gazing out into the scrap yard.

"I guess this is the perfect sunset for you, huh?" Sam quipped, indicating the view of decaying metal.

"Hmmmm," Dean gave a weak chuckle and smile.

Sam laid a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder. He could feel Dean tense, so he massaged gently and was rewarded with a bit of relaxation. Sam let his hand fall from his brother's shoulder and sank down beside him. He could feel Dean's tremors and shivers. Before he could suggest going in, Dean spoke.

"I don't get it." Dean's voice was quiet.

"What?"

"Why don't we look older?"

"Well, it was a hell of a week. I don't think any of us look our best," Sam's puzzlement grew.

"Week?" It was Dean's turn to frown and look confused.

"Yeah, Dean, you were gone a week," Sam quietly stated. "I told you that before."

Dean looked at his brother clearly stunned. "What?" he finally managed. He didn't remember Sam having told him that before.

"You were gone a week," Sam repeated.

"No." Dean barely breathed the word.

"How long did you think you were gone?" Sam asked, his voice matching the volume of his brother's.

"Years," Sam barely caught the words as Dean breathed them out. It was Sam's turn to look stunned.

"What?" Sam was sure he hadn't heard correctly.

"I…I…it…felt…years. Seven years." Sam barely heard the words and wished he hadn't. Dean's anguished gaze finally met his brother's and Sam's heart broke all over again.

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**A/N2:** I know, this is a bit slow. I've been writing and tweaking this for almost two weeks now, and I'm still not entirely sure I like it. This is a bit of a set up for what is to come. Please be patient, I really do have some action planned! Well, that is if anyone feels like it's worth it for me to continue… There are a lot of NRFTW tags out there already, so if this is just wasting space let me know – I'll take resounding silence as an indication too. If you like and want more, please take a moment to review….


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